Short Alleyway Poems

Red geraniums
Next to the backdoor
In the alleyway
Behind the bookstore...

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That was our alleyway 
That was our road 
That's where our memories lie 
And I'm scared to let it go...

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Hi I'm an innocent
I walk through the alleyway
I love it here
I get to be nice and relax
Wow I'm dead now...

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Detritus alleyway
A destitute
Blinkered soul
Regurgitating
Crippling, clichéd
Thoughts grounded 
With a loaded  tongue....

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I am nothing more than the misfit poet
Dimestore prophet
Fallen
Drunken
Lying naked in the alleyway of your heart
For you my world is bared for all to see...

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Homeless 
enflamed   
in the alleyway
food 
their main concern

Love
someone else’s
mystery
hunger’s infliction 
— to burn 

(Dreamsleep: February, 2025)
...

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The echoes dance
on the walls of the alleyway,
to the rhythm of arrival.

My heart races with joy,
while listening to the melody
of your heels growing nearer
on the quaint cobblestone......

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improbable thoughts 
leading me
impossibility thinking
detours me in every alleyway
sheer blind faith
belief in the goodness of the universe
saving me 
guiding me
toward the bliss of myself...

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I look to fetch 
She lives in shadow
wearing only grief
our lust is shallow 
the place convenient
church for the sinful  
the smell fowl  
her legs weak 
her hair pulled back
her throat
soft 
cut
lost...

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who needs their shoes mended, 
remembrance Sunday
wept for my soul. hello alleyway cousin, 
I hear the thud of rain,
November morning you bought me down
Tempest and Thunder
I remember the frailty of grief
The day new day is of old


...

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My closest friends, who number three
I heed not thus for loyalty
and neither camaraderie 
but simply in proximity

They live not down my alleyway
nor porch, nor in my house per se
but underneath my fringed toupee
they're in my head, well stowed away

********************************...

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When wantonness elopes the green
a blaze of colour occurs
stretched far into the day
The reciprecent celebrates
the elopers attention
The golden hum of bees pervades
along the meadowed stretch
as young lovers discuss
their two tired options
like pebbles along the sycamore bridle...

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so behind my apartment building
is this nasty little alleyway
with an absolutely ancient church
and today, for some reason
the congregation is outside
on the street
and there's this loud woman (i can't see her)
just screaming
 
WHOA OH OH OH OH OH
 
so i closed the window
came back to the computer
and wrote this...

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Dark alleyway filled with crazy games.
How many days has it been since I started this revolution?
This right here is why I ran away from home- to be free from all these restraining 
chains.
No one to tell me what to do!
I finally have control,
not my mom, not my dad, not anyone!
Yet love yanks me from the top as if I were a fish caught on a hook....

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In my secret heart I’ve felt
Like a blood-crazed Celt,
Scottish, Irish, either one,
Killing Britons with my gun.

Or with broadsword or with knife,
Dirk, or dagger, taking life
In an Ulster alleyway,
Or Culloden Moor that day.

Smoke and blood on heather grass,
Celtic reverie must pass,
Like a distant, dimming dream
Drowning in a dank, swift stream....

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alleyway bandits beat the man till he dropped,
as they were rummaging through his wares —
clad in crimson armor a vigilante appeared,
everywhere — no where like a ghoulish phantom,
one by two till all five lay scattered — splattered,
ripped apart by the golden gauntlets of scarlet,
and then it was gone in the zephyr — like smoke.
a bloody canary singing a lullaby of Roanoke....

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Trudging around our town,
This man is really down.
In his eyes see despair -
“Some small change can you spare.”
To eat, for cash he pleads,
But he’s more pressing needs.
There’s free food-bank nearby 
On which he can rely.

He must play begging tricks –
He needs to buy his fix.
He’s a pawn in the game –
The shame, the pain, the gain.
The tallyman he pay
Lurks in that alleyway....

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Oh death your sting will plea
rejoice cancerous vile flesh.
And scab bandages the angel's plea.
of bliss to rest from arrogant men.

Mode I do abhor the card
casting of my flesh moray.
Lipstick stains and gill vanguard
tears swift by tram alleyway.

My memories the broadsword
thing left to hold me to thane.
Womb called life resale abhorred
permeability train.
Headed in the quest of
finality....

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Who has not felt the aloneness 
The uncertainty
of waking?

When eyes undefended
get a glimpse of the day's might
Alienated from the stillness of the night
Into a sight that is not quiet yet,

Probing around with unfocused gaze 
Uncertain chill
into the light.

It is hesitation before the new
Of letting go
For staying is nowhere.

Let me be with you then
holding you gently within myself 
you are my alleyway to the morning....

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There are globs of hard snow topped on the small 
Green bushes running alongside the alleys between the houses.  
The branches that obstruct my view of that alley are still, quiet.
But I can see the ground is caked over in icy snow, 
A tan SUV sits on the other end of the alleyway, 
On a suburban road really. 
A green SUV passes by. 
A green truck passes by. 
See now I have lost the thread. 
Just watching things pass by....

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Little Joyce Ann and her friend Glenn
decided to play a trick one day
They took a rope and each grabbed an end,
then laid it across the alleyway

They hid in the bushes on each side
and waited for just the right time
One on the left and one on the right 
waiting patiently for him to come by

Then came Little Johnny on his bike,
riding without a care
Right on time they snatched the rope tight
and flipped Little Johnny up in the air...

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Red lights flashing 
And my heart defaced
Fighting feelings I can’t describe
Tracing patterns within the rhyme
Out of empathy, out of time
Spiraling down the kitchen sink
Languishing in thoughts abated
Searching for a love
To reignite my spark
Stone faced and hard hearted
I know not from whence I came
Standing in an alleyway
With red lights flashing
Watching the dead reanimate
By a single tear of mine
By a solemn prayer lost in time....

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Raw 
Intelligence…
Like dry 
Cement
Sitting unmixed
Never used
To make 
Anything 
Real

Raw 
Intelligence…
A flashing
Neon light
To its own 
Potential
Bulbs
Burning out
One at a time

Raw
Intelligence…
Its shadows
Forever littered
Along a
Lost and 
Forgotten
Past tense
Alleyway

Raw
Intelligence…
Like shards of
Glass
In the maelstrom
Reflecting a story
Of what 
Might
Have been

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)...

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Serial Murder in Haiku

Murder one: Mary Lou

A prostitute dead
Motionless body cold blood
Killer on the loose

Murder Two: Stephaney

Body found in ditch
Brutally mutilated
Police have no clue

Murder Three: Erica

Another girl dead
Throat slit in dark alleyway
Body left no clue

Murder Four: Julie

Girl strangled in car
Hand prints found around her neck
Police have a clue

Murder Five: The catch

Murder of four girls
Sentence to life in prison
No chance of parole...

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Bleak city scenes
outlined 
            by dark shadows
a cat runs
            into an alleyway
which winds its way
               between two 
grey stone apartment buildings
Tired eyes view a dark metropolis
     everyone who has a 
home
           is on the
way there
         the moon casts
its rays
           on the night people
  who (with eyes that pierce the darkness)
         seek out  the
light which is coming soon
      in the all - too - real
morning...

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